


The Vantas Regime

by SweatersAndScarves (SlaveToMyKeyboard)



Series: Alternia Sans Sgrub [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Drabble, Gen, Karkat being a badass, Militarystuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlaveToMyKeyboard/pseuds/SweatersAndScarves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat has a ship, a free schedule, and a favour owed to one Terezi Pyrope. He also happens to delight in scaring the shit out of younger Trolls and Eridan is quite happy to enjoy the show.</p><p>May or may not be a scenario created for the express reason to have the line "Try fucking a sea-dweller on the beach in a dark season's winter, then talk to me about being cold." coming out of Karkat Vantas' mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vantas Regime

**Author's Note:**

> *pops in* FYI Trolls use hands to measure height instead of feet, okay? Okay, good, hope you enjoy. *pops back out*

Karkat Vantas. A name that strikes fear into the souls of any who dare to even breath near _The Levenari_ , and is owned by a cherry-blood who hasn’t grown an inch since he was seven. Both ship and captain are the pride of the fleet, and tonight, fifteen new recruits get to bask in their glory. They’re going to need it too, you think, as you run your eyes over the shivering sacks of petrified shit that are dripping water onto the landing bay. All of them are tiny, even by Lowblood standards, none running cooler than teal and with a good three hands worth of growth left in them. They can’t be more than nine sweeps; this is probably their first space flight. And the poor sods get landed with the most brilliant yet cantankerous Threshecutioner of his, or any, generation. This is going to be fun.

They all stand to attention as the captain descends from his vessel and strides across the bay, eyes closed and feet keeping a perfect rhythm until he stops dead centre of the line, turning to face them with a sharp twist of his heels. It’s fucking _beautiful_. The kids seem to be erring more towards terrifying, their hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane as they hold them above their eyebrows. Each one is sporting a different variation of fear on their face; some look as if they are outright about to piss themselves, others are pale and blank like they might faint – you pray that they don’t because that would be a lot of extra paperwork – whilst a select few are trying to overwrite their wide eyes and quivering lower lips with bravery. They’re going to get a shock when they find out how many fucks Karkat doesn’t give about pretending not to be scared.

“Alright assholes,” Karkat begins, his lack of regard for standard discourse as fierce as ever, “someone, aka your fuckwit of an instructor, thought that it would be a good idea to use one of the favours I owe her as an excuse to dump the sorry excuses for Trolls she calls students into my care, and jet off to go pail her shitfaced Matesprit into the darkest depths of oblivion for seven whole bilunar perigees.”

He pauses to let the words sink in. None of the kids are trying to look brave anymore.

“What this means,” he continues, beginning to pace up and down the line so that he can stare each one in the eye with a look that says ‘you disgust me on a personal level’, “is that even though I have no interest in raising the next generation of Legislacerators to amble around our courtrooms with an undersized hammer and get off from hanging their latest victim over a pit of Axoldiles, I have to at least try and drill something useful into your thick, wasted pans.”

You love it when he gets like this, 15 hands of pure bravado and carefully channelled indignation for the world as a whole and everyone in it, oozing total command over each and every thing he lays eyes on. Fuck that look is sexy, even without the way his pants curve perfectly around that ridiculously tight, plump little ass of his. He probably knows that you’re perving over it too, which is why he stands right in front of you after he's finished prowling past his victims.

“So, as an introduction to the Vantas regime of not getting anything unless you work for it, you’re going to run laps around my glorious heap of a ship.”

A few of them whine in protest, then seem to remember whose presence they’re in and abruptly straighten their backs as if someone shoved a pole up their nethers.

“Oh I’m sorry, are you cold?” Karkat asks, with all the sincerity of a Kismesis checking that their mate is comfortable, “Try fucking a sea-dweller on the beach in a dark season’s winter, _then_ talk to me about being cold.”

The students not frozen with fear let their questioning gazes drift to you, and your reply to them is a smirk and some dancing eyebrows, letting them know that yes, you are indeed the aforementioned sea-dweller, and you have never been so proud to be him in your entire life.

Karkat draws their attention back with a sharp, “But,” pausing before carrying on in a slightly softer tone, “since I know Pyrope well enough to be fairly certain about the fact that she has pampered you all into being a bunch of sissies, I’ll give you a little incentive beforehand.”

He glances over his shoulder at you, one side of his mouth curling into smile that only you can see.

“I think the head chef should be able to prepare something adequate for our new guppies, if you would be so kind as to pass on the message, Captain Ampora?”

“Of course, Captain Vvantas."

You can hear Karkat order his ‘guppies’ to begin running as you head to the kitchens, but when you glance back before boarding the ship, he breaks character for a split second to give you a smile and a wink.

‘ _I’ll pay you back later_.’

You smile back at him.

‘ _I knoww you wwill._ ’


End file.
